


Into The Fray

by Measured



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-10
Updated: 2013-10-10
Packaged: 2017-12-28 23:58:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/998448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Imagine Miss Pauling walking through 2fort one day with her face buried in her clipboard and seemingly oblivious to the chaos surrounding her, i.e. flurries of rockets, rifle shots and spray bullet, and Scout is clumsily following behind her trying to protect her from all the danger and making a fool out of himself in the process.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into The Fray

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RAXip](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RAXip/gifts).



> [from this](http://imagineyourtf2otp.tumblr.com/post/62765936420/imagine-miss-pauling-walking-through-2fort-one-day-with). Timeline is around WAR!
> 
> Thanks to Multiversecafe for the beta.

1.  
Scout leapt past the bridge, bullets flying over his head. Three rockets soared in the air around him, exploding into the walls of the fort as he jumped up. Of course, those chucklenuts couldn't even hit his dust— what else was new?

"It's starting to bore me how much you _suck_!" Scout called back to the BLU team, who his team were utterly _laying_ into today. Seriously, he might have to go take a break just to make it fair, maybe let them capture the briefcase and taste victory before kicking them to the curb where they belonged.

He chuckled as he hit the curve, a line of bullets hitting the wall where he'd just been seconds ago. He caught sight of a flash of purple, and skidded to a stop. Sometimes he'd see her in the back, talking to the conference rooms and impressing everyone and stuff. Glimpses of her had sent him to Respawn more times than he cared to admit.

He jumped the steps just to see a little more of her. But she wasn't behind closed doors this time. Miss Pauling was standing right in the middle of the dirty little courtyard– he had to rub his eyes and do a double take, and not just because she was looking _extra fine_ today. She kept insistently glancing at her clipboard, right in firing range on the lower steps of the courtyard near the sewers. A stray rocket from the clash down in the sewers hit the wall, knocking him out of his daze. He leapt down the stairs, and pushed at the red paint peeling wall for leverage. the dispenser was unattended and beeping. It wasn't like Engineer to just leave his machines unattended. Maybe he'd gotten sent to Respawn?

"Yo, Miss Pauling!"

"Not now, Scout, I need to memorize this–"

"Uh, Miss P—"

No response, except maybe a sigh. He couldn't quite hear her over the explosions making him frigging deaf.

"Miss Pauling—" 

She kept walking, not even looking where she was going. A blue dot went above her head. He took in a sharp intake of breath, tensing his muscles to spring, but the dot moved on.

She was so utterly engrossed in the stupid paper crap that she didn't notice the world around her. Was she like that in libraries as well? Maybe she'd lose herself in a book, until she wouldn't even realize how many hours she'd lost until the closing time came around.

Man, he never thought nerds would be so hot.

A Pyro charged by, and stopped at the dispenser to rest under the stream of red healing light. A rocket exploded at the wall, and he jerked back, his gun at ready. Jeez, where was their Engineer? Maybe he'd gotten taken out, which would be a shame, because he really needed a sentry right about. He could take on the other team's Soldier in a one-on-one, but it wouldn't do anything to keep _her_ safe. He elbowed Pyro in the chest, enough to make the mumbly guy wince, and with that distraction, he wrestled the flamethrower from him in one swift tug.

"How the friggin' hell does this work—Oh!"

A stream of air came out of the flamethrower. He pointed it up, though the Soldier was nowhere in sight.

"Hey, this is pretty cool!" 

_"Mmpha Mppha MMPH!!"_

Pyro had his hands on his hips. Even if he didn't speak mumbles, he had enough brothers to know _I'm going to tell mom or dad!_ when he heard it.

"Yeah, just gimme a second—come on, pally, I'll hit you so hard that your grandma's grandma will feel it!!"

The other team's Soldier came out just enough to fire off a round. Even at this distance, he could see the guy's look of shock. Scout turned that air blast on full, sending that big damn rocket straight back at him.

But it wasn't the rocket which made Soldier gape.

 _"Miss Pauling?"_ Soldier said. And that was the last thing he did as his rocket came right back in his face. Scout chuckled his body was blown into parts, entrails and blood splattering red across the walls.

"Wooohooo, this is _awesome!_ " Scout posed with the gun, but Miss Pauling _wasn't looking_. He stretched a little more, doing this fake yawn which made his shirt ride up. He really felt bad for Miss Pauling, missing the best wonder of the world that was his abs.

She'd seen them eventually. He was sure he could get Old Man Hale to institute Mannly Shirtless Mondays one of these days.

Pyro was making this weird noise, sort of like keening, but muffled. Was the big bad firebug _crying?_

Pyro reached out for the gun, and Scout drew back. "I need that, you mumbly mumbles mumbler––!"

She had started walking straight up the stairs, to a far more dangerous place for her to be sleepwalking, or whatever the hell was wrong with her.

 _"Oh no you don't,"_ he said. 

"Here, take it. I don't need it anymore. " He thrust the flamethrower right back at Pyro. Pyro hugged the gun to his chest and stroked it, saying something muffled by his mask. Scout didn't wait around for a translation, he chased after her up the stairs. Who knew a little thing like her could move so fast? 

Man, if they ever had kids together, the world would be doomed. Seriously, their babies would be the fastest, strongest, smartest and most fricking beautiful kids that ever were.

He probably would've lost himself in some damn white picket fence daydream where he and Miss Pauling were married, and she was a businesswoman by day, superhero by night and they had about twenty children, each more amazing than the last, except there was the whole _war_ thing that kept getting in the way of his quality daydreams. 

He leapt the last couple of stairs, teetering a moment as he caught on the rickety top step. What he saw made something inside him stop completely. His heart skipped what must've been several beats, his breath caught in his lungs for a second as she walked straight towards the covered bridge, where she'd be easy prey for any Sniper or Soldier out there.

"Miss Pauling! Come on, you can't go there—"

No response. God, what a time for her to ignore him. 

"Miss _Pauling!_ Come on! What the frickin' hell?"

Again a blue dot settled over her head. A Demoman jumped on the clouds of an explosion, right for them. Oh yeah, he was still carrying the flag. Well, _shit._

He lost sight of the enemy Demoman in the smoke of the bombs, but he knew it wouldn't last long. No, this was not happening. He didn't know what the hell was going on with her head in the clouds made of boring papers and crap, and even if it was cute, he was not having her blown to bits.

He'd die for good before that ever happened.

He fired off a couple shots at the Demoman with his pistol, then gripped her wrist and dragged her to safety. Her heels skidded on the wood floor, and he held on a bit tighter as he heard another big boom of gunfire behind them.

A rocket came their way, blue crackling through the air with the extra energy which always put him in Respawn. He dove, pinning her towards the wall. Debris sunk into his back, agonizingly hot. Metal lodged in his back, his legs. Little volcanic spurts of pain welled up in him, and he had to bite back a scream. He tasted blood in his mouth, and he couldn't tell if it was from his injuries, or from biting his tongue so hard to keep quiet.

But she was safe, and that was all that really mattered.

"Listen, it's great you wanna spend time with me, but _you gotta do it after work_. You ain't even in Respawn, I don't think. Even if you are, I don't _ever_ wanna see you in pieces, got that?"

He hadn't meant to get quite so close or intense on her— it was the guys he'd grab their shirt's and tell them to take it outside. He was pretty sure she'd slap him if he did that. Or shoot him in the head.

Her cheeks were way more red than they had been a bit ago. He could see her neck bob as she swallowed, see the shininess of lip gloss on her lips. Lips which he'd been dreaming about kissing ever since he first caught sight for her. He leaned in a bit more, and she didn't draw away.

It wouldn't take much to just lean in and touch her.

The sound of someone reloading killed the moment. He stepped back, gun raised. Miss Pauling was digging into her things for a gun as well. Hey, it was about time she woke up. Was he really going to get to see her kick ass?

A grenade bounced in towards him. He quickly pulled out his baseball bat out of his bag, and swung at it, sending it crashing back down the hall. "Batta swing! Home frickin' run!" He laughed as he heard the bursts of that going off. Oh yeah, he hoped it went right off in the guy's face.

"That'll teach you to throw balls at me, chucklenuts! I am the master of balls! All of them! I got balls of frickin' _steel_ and I bat all the other ones away!"

He laughed and lifted up his bat. Man, he was so amazing, he just couldn't deal with it sometimes. And by sometimes, he meant always.

"Hey, you see that, Miss Pauling? You lookin'?"

It was cut off by another big burst against the walls. As much as he'd love to just have her on the sidelines, watching him utterly cream the other team and obviously falling head over heels for him, he wasn't about to do it like this.

"Come on, we're gettin' outta here," Scout said. He grabbed her wrist and lead her down towards the intel room, the ache following along with him. He didn't let go of her wrist as he took the stairs down to the intelligence room two at a time. Sure, he'd thought a lot about holding her hand, but not with the other team breathing down his neck. Still, it was pretty awesome. His heart was racing from the match, from how near she was and the soft warmth of her skin.

The machines hummed as he and Miss P went on by. Hey, wasn't this kind of like a date? Something like it, at least. It left him feeling warm inside, kinda gooey and stupid. It was a great rush, like a bolt of Bonk had been put straight into his veins. But it kept lasting, with every blood rush beat of his heart. 

Would being around her all the time be like this? A shock to the skin, like flying and falling all at once?

He didn't know, but damn if he wasn't determined to find out.

"Scout, I can't run anymore—my heel broke, and my ankle hurts—" She rested one hand against the textured concrete walls.

It was pretty hard to keep his head in the game when she was looking undone like this, flushed cheeks and gasping and her hair a little messy. _Damn_ , it was downright sexy, and he was holding onto her wrist. He'd pushed her up to the walls once for protection, but now all he could think of was pushing her against them again and seeing just what her lipgloss tasted like.

He swallowed and forced himself to look away. _Keep it together, Scout. Save it for later, you can show off your skills for her when you've won the match!_

"Hey, we're almost there," he said. "You can do it! C'mon, I believe in you!"

She shook her head. "I'm sorry, it really hurts."

With one look past her shoulders, back towards the big beepy and boopy humming machines, he made up his mind.

"All right, I'll carry you the rest of the way–"

"What—?"

"Hold on tight," he said.

He scooped her up, bridal style. Note to self: it was frigging hard to run while carrying a girl bridal style, especially with the added weight of the briefcase as well. But, hey, it was still pretty damn amazing to have her arms holding onto him, to have her in his arms. The desk was in sight, the gunfire getting closer every second.

The glass was bulletproof, rocket proof, grenade proof and fireproof. Thing could probably even take a van running into it. And he'd know, considering what happened whenever the guy stuck with guarding the briefcase duty got bored enough.

He reluctantly set her down and opened the door, because his ma always taught him how to treat a lady. He unbuckled the briefcase, and she took it with a nod, and passed through the doors with a glance back at him as the door swung close, locking into place. He saw her dark eyes slightly widen as she looked beyond him. Pain exploded across his chest, and he coughed blood across the glass. He heard the revving up of a Minigun. No way in hell he was going to miss that. It didn't matter, though. He'd gotten the briefcase and Miss Pauling was safe. He drew some lines in the glass door, and gave one last wave as the wave of bullets hit him, sending him spiraling into a last surge of pain, then the nothing of blackness. It was a cold space he always had to endure before Respawn. The first time he'd gone through it, he'd pissed himself and all the guys had laughed at him.

This time, before the night cold blackness of a tightening room closed about him, he thought of her. Her hand in his, her laugh and smile and _damn fine_ curves filling his every fantasy.

Though the dark, there was a flicker of warmth. He clung to it as he counted down the nothingness seconds. When he opened his eyes, it was to a familiar room. 

Out of the corner of his vision, he could see that familiar old pin up calender. 

"You know, she's totally cuter," he said.

*

2.  
Miss Pauling tried to smooth down her hair with little success, and began to limp towards the deeper halls, to the Administrator's office. It wasn't helping that all the staff technicians were gaping at her like she was a dead woman walking. She acted as if it were nothing in particular that she'd just walked through a battlefield, not unattended, though.

The Administrator put out a cigarette into the large clear tray as Miss Pauling entered the dark, claustrophobic room of screens.

"I've returned from this mission, though I've no new information to report."

"Really, you gleaned _nothing?_ from the exercise?" Administrator said.

"Pyro dislikes being separated from his gun....I shouldn't be surprised that they took it at face value and didn't suspect a thing," she said.

The Administrator said nothing. She was only paying half attention, as she sat at an angle, her long fingers touching each button to connect the many microphones and cameras to each other. It was a complex web, and far harder than it looked, though she turned it into a fine art.

"...did this accomplish what you wished it would?" Miss Pauling said.

She knew better than to question her bosses's motives, though putting her into the line of fire in battle made her wonder if this was the Administrator's way of firing her.

"What do you think, Miss Pauling?" Administrator said.

Miss Pauling tilted her head. It didn't sound like sarcasm, but she never could be too sure when it came to The Administrator. She couldn't quite tell if it was direct hostility, or her boss's usual general hostility towards everything.

"I only encountered Scout, and Pyro, though it seems Soldier recognized me as well. It's possible Demoman simply didn't see me as he doesn't have the best depth perception. Regardless, Scout was the only one I spent any actual time on the field with. He was determined to protect me, even at the cost of getting hurt and losing the match. It was unexpected...and rather impressive," she said.

The Administrator's gaze was sharp, seeing through to subtitles that she hadn't even foreseen. A slight lilt in her voice, the hint of a smile, a softening of the professionalism she had been building for so long.

She cleared her throat. "...Impressively _stupid,_ that is. Even for him, and that's saying something."

_Don't embellish too much. Lies are more telling when you keep adding things. Most of all, don't show any weakness._

Administrator lit her cigarette in the dark. "I see everything, Miss Pauling. Day by day these idiots think that they have a modicum of privacy in-between blowing each other up, but I know their every fear and weakness."

Miss Pauling tightened her grip on her clipboard, and swallowed as she looked to the side. No, shoulders back. Don't let fear ever show through.

"Of course. That's what...a good Administrator would do in any case," Miss Pauling said. She cleared her throat again. "I'm sure whatever you wished to find with this, ah, exercise was done perfectly well."

Unless the reason for the exercise was to fire her in the most literal way, then it was an utter failure and she had a second chance at life. Administrator didn't reply. She had turned her full gaze towards the match. Her boss was as unreadable as ever, imposing and powerful in a way most people couldn't even imagine. 

She'd have to redouble her efforts. Prove once and for all that she was someone who was absolutely not worth putting in a pit of crocodiles or shallow grave. Whatever Administrator had sent her to learn, well, she'd take every warning possible from it.

"...was that all you needed?" Miss Pauling said.

The Administrator lifted her hand, waving her away as she took a drag of her cigarette.

_"The enemy has received additional time."_

"All right," Miss Pauling said quietly. She limped out and back to the screens. She had documents to organize, and many more hours before she would be anywhere near finished.

The only thing she could tell was that this was a warning, one that she wouldn't take lightly.

*

No more than five minutes after the match had ended, Scout burst through the doors, nearly running into two technicians in the process. He was covered in someone else's blood all over his shirt, a rip from a knife across his knee.

"Hey, you okay? You didn't fall and hit your head, did you? Your ankle doin' all right?" 

"Hit my head?" she said. She got to her feet, even though her ankle was steadily throbbing.

"Yeah, this morning, the match—"

"What about it, Scout?" she said.

"Er, with you—You're always so collected and stuff, but you were just so into that clipboard thing—"

"Yes? I don't have all day," she said.

"With the thing—you really don't remember? I mean, you totally should, considerin' that I carried you all manly like, and it ain't every day you get that, huh—"

She glanced around. All her fellow coworkers and the Administrator were hearing this. She'd have to be extra harsh with him.

"Whatever that was, it was kind of cute. Didn't expect to see that kind of side to you," he said. 

He actually was rather cute when he talked about her, he'd soften up, flushed and happy enough to make her momentarily forget that he was her coworker and he was a violent idiot who could get them both killed with his flirtatious ways.

He hadn't noticed her shaking knees then, he'd gotten close enough that she could smell the sulphur of gunpowder on him, felt him carry her the rest of the way and not just physically.

Sometimes in moments, she forgot. Dust in the sunlight, a smile and a cup of coffee. An alarm, a phone ring, the sound of someone's voice and it'd all be gone, smoke in the air dissipating into nothing.

She tensed. Not here, not like this. She pushed herself up, even though she wanted to do nothing more than rest her foot for the remainder of the day.

"I wouldn't know what you're talking about. If you'll excuse me," she said, in her most snippy, professional voice. The one she had to practice in the mirror at night to get _just_ right.

It was only when she turned away from him that she let the professionalism fall, and with it came the hint of a smile. Another moment of remembering, dreaming. The taste of coffee and the sound of his voice, far off on the battlefield.

 _As far as displays of affection go, writing it out in his own blood is rather...creative._  
Sometimes she would prepare what she'd say in conversations, from meeting with her boss, to her friends. Her little bubble of happiness popped when the realization of her reality came. If she even had friends to tell her life about anymore, she couldn't talk about him, or anything else. He was part of her life that couldn't be shared with anyone.

_Then, you'll be my secret. A secret that has to be even kept from you, but one of these days you're bound to find out....I look forward to that day._

She was always looking back towards him, through the moments and faltering steps. She saw just a sliver of red, his back as the door closed. Just as she was about to turn, she heard the door open wide enough to knock back into chairs and overturn a white wastebasket.

He grinned, devilish as he gave her one last wink, both hands held tightly to the door. "Hey, hey, take care of yourself! And always remember, I'd be more than happy to take care of _you_!"

He saw someone on the other side of the hall, and with a look of shock, he jumped away from the door and out of sight. She shook her head, leaving the debris for the janitors. He was like a slow motion natural disaster, crashing into her and breaking down the walls.

Even as she heeded the new warning, the small moments of falling remained.


End file.
